I was oddly impressed by this article from Juneau but never had time to talk about it before. Seems like their hearts were adjacent to “in the right place” but they sure put a lot of effort into no learning any actual solutions?
I guess it’s true what they say. Maintaining ignorance takes effort.
Beaver builds dam. Road floods. Visitors dismantle dam. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
In the summer of 2018, Christine, Colt and I drove an old, mostly unmaintained road on U.S. Forest Service property to a favorite jump-off place to climb into the high country. It was early morning, and for an instant the water rushing across the road seemed a mirage. The splash of the truck tires dropping into the 8-inch-deep crevice confirmed it was not.
The alder boughs, still resplendent with green leaves that lay in an orchestrated tangle across the stream where it ran beside the road, identified the culprit. An enterprising beaver had decided the narrow gap where water drained from a small shallow pond was a good place to make it a bigger, deeper pond for beavers to do whatever it is they do.
The stream was a small tributary of a larger stream that ran under a short bridge to the northwest. Below the bridge were numerous beaver ponds, stepped down the valley where previous generations of the large rodents had built palatial lodges. Family tradition, it would seem.
We had a moment about the legalities of tearing out a beaver dam and decided, judging from the way the current was washing away the road, that if we didn’t there would be no road in short order.
Okay then. Here they are, on federal lands, wondering what to do about a beaver dam that is going to soon plug the culvert that makes driving possible. Gee I wonder what they’ll try? Don’t you?
We decided to remove enough of the dam to drain the pond below the road-crossing level and call the Forest Service when we got out of the mountains.
Relief flooded over me when I talked with a Forest Service fellow I had gotten to
know while doing ptarmigan survey work. He chuckled when told of the dilemma and said it was fine and they would be up to clear out the dams.
A beaver had also dammed a culvert that ran across the road south of the washout. We both figured someone would trap the beaver when the trapping season opened, and that would solve the problem.
Until the freeze-up of the 2018 season, we cleared the dam about every 10 days. The Forest Service was also clearing it, and it seemed other folks pitched in too. By that time, we had developed a fondness for this enterprising animal that did not take no for an answer, and that we had never seen.
They kept shoveling away, ripping out that dam. And never once cracked open the google to read about those new fangled beaver deceivers they were using in the lower 48.Sure why not? It’s Alaska. Frontiers and all that. You’ve got nothing to lose but your time.
We began to enjoy the time spent in the stream, making more work for an animal that displays the capabilities of a journeyman engineer. Each time would reveal more of its amazing creativity and resolve.
When we started up the road in the spring of 2019, we wondered if our buddy had made it through the winter. When we saw no evidence of his presence, it was kind of sad.
A few weeks later we drove through again, and there was a trickle of water going across the road. Christine clapped with delight.
“He’s back!”
Funny story. I mean not to interfere with your fun new hobby or anything, but the beaver needs that water level so that he and his family don’t freeze to death during your long Alaska winters. I’m guessing since you never left them any water they DID freeze to death. And you just ended up with new beavers the following year.
So it’s not really “He’s back” it’s “We still haven’t learned!”
The 2019 season was a repeat of the year before. Between us, the Forest Service and other folks we don’t know, we thwarted the marvelous little fellow’s efforts. By freeze-up this animal had become “family.” We kept our fingers crossed he would make it through another winter.
Early in 2020, it seemed the same as the previous year, except now we had more faith. Once again, one late spring morning, the dam was back, and once again, we were delighted.
The dams in the stream and the culvert have become more substantial. The freshly chewed alder boughs, dead sticks and small rocks from the previous years have been supplemented with rocks the size of footballs placed in the streambed and culvert. One end of the pipe sits above the pond bottom by a foot or so, and these large rocks had been hoisted into the opening.
How these creatures manipulate these objects a source of wonder. We have found old, waterlogged root masses and logs encased in packed mud that stagger the imagination.
Wanting to see what goes on, we’ve spent some nights sitting by the dam, hoping to observe. Nothing. It is as if they know, and are not playing. A couple of times, there have been tail-slaps, perhaps telling us to go away.
Or maybe telling their family to WATCH OUT! “Those crazy fuckers are here again!”
In the past, the dam would be rebuilt after about 10 days. This year, it’s more like every three or four days.
During the most recent clearing of the dam, a couple of weeks ago, this story’s start occurred. It was a particularly tough job, and water flowed over the road that day.
When I finished, I called my friend with the Forest Service to tell him about the road and that I wouldn’t be able to get back for more than a week, and the speed of the beaver’s rebuilding might demand a visit sooner.
No problem, they would take care of it.
Hmm. How exactly? I’m holding my breath.
When we got back a couple of days ago, I had one of those pit-in-the-stomach moments, when it appeared the beavers had not done much in 10 days.
The last time we cleared the dam Christine commented that the work was more challenging than climbing the mountain, and how good it felt to be doing something beneficial in the outdoors. Some might say, “Not to the beaver.” But, they are disposed to do what they do and must do to survive. The benefit works both ways — we keep the road, and they keep working.
So, as I write this, I hope the beavers just took a mini-vacation and in a few days they’ll be back to work. If not, then we’ll hope a trickle of water over the road will welcome us back when we drive up in the spring.
You sweet, plucky, fools. If you had installed some culvert protection 5 years ago you could have spent the time dog-sledding or planting rhubarb. I mean there are worse ways to be stupid. Killing the beavers for instance. But if you’re going to spend your effort and time and care about this why not make the right kind of difference?
